My Stupid Mouth
by purrfect
Summary: What, exactly, has Ron's big mouth done now, and why does Harry have the horrible suspicion that it has something to do with Hermione?


_This fic was inspired by, and takes its name from, the John Mayer song "My Stupid Mouth". Something about it just reminds me of Ron, and how he might just bungle one of the biggest moments of his life. Yes, I paraphrased some of the lyrics. Please don't sue me. ;o) There's a first version to this story that's a bit different...if you want to read it, check out the link to my livejournal in my profile._

"I have a big mouth."

Harry Potter tried valiantly not to snicker. His best mate, Ron Weasley, looked so earnest, his ginger brows drawn together over his puzzled blue eyes, that Harry honestly knew he shouldn't snicker. So, instead of snickering, he tried nodding. Ron, however, apparently noticed that Harry was compressing his lips to hold in the chuckle, as he smiled sheepishly before picking up his sandwich.

It was Thursday, and the two 21 year-old men were having their weekly lunch meeting in a small Muggle pub in London. They always chose a Muggle establishment for two reasons: one, as Aurors, they were not always in London on Thursdays, so it would not do for them to be seen by other witches and wizards when they were supposed to be off in, say, Wales, on a mission. Two, when you were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, two of the most handsome, brave and _eligible_ wizards in England (so said _Witch Weekly_, at any rate), it just wasn't a good idea to be seen anywhere there might be young, impressionable, man-hungry witches. Even Ron had gotten tired of fighting off groupies, so it had been agreed that they would always meet in Muggle London on Thursdays. Usually, they chatted about Quidditch and other non-threatening topics. Today, however, Ron seemed to have something important on his mind, for he set down his sandwich without even taking a bite.

"You aren't surprised that I have a big mouth, and that doesn't hurt my feelings," Ron said with a shrug.

When Harry just raised his eyebrows in a 'yeah, right' sort of expression, Ron shrugged again, his sheepish smile spreading into the lopsided grin which set many a hearts aflutter in the wizarding world. "No, really, it doesn't. I know I have a big mouth. Mum is always having to smack me upside the head and remind me to 'think before you speak'."

Ron's normally deep voice rose into a fair imitation of his mother's higher, stern tones on the last statement, and Harry's lips twitched into his own famous smile. "That's a really good imitation of your mum's voice, mate."

Ron chuckled. "I know, I do a great impression of her, don't I? I've always been a pretty good mimic. My favorite to do is Fudge right when he lost his job as Minister of ..." Ron suddenly trailed off and sighed, his grin drooping as he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing the dark auburn strands even further.

Harry felt a little jolt of alarm run up his spine. Ron was never this serious unless something was terribly wrong. Before he could say anything, however, Ron was continuing. What he said, however, had Harry's jolt of alarm turning into a full-fledged attack: Ron was rambling a bit, and when Ron rambled, something terrible had happened.

"Right, I was talking about something else, wasn't I? What was it? Oh, yeah, my big mouth, and how it got me into trouble this time."

Ron paused to take a deep breath, as if girding himself for something unpleasant, and Harry felt himself tensing even further. This was very, very bad. Every instinct Harry had was screaming at him to tell Ron to shut up. He had just opened his mouth to do so when Ron, once again, headed him off.

"Let me start again. It happened just a couple of days ago. I was having lunch with someone, and somewhere between trying out chess moves with the salt and pepper shakers and discussing Quidditch, I said it. I just blurted it out, like I was asking about the weather."

Harry was confused. Ron had been having lunch with 'someone' and had blurted 'it' out? This was the bad news Ron had made him worry so much about that his fingernails had bored half-moon holes into his palms? Harry frowned, fiercely, suddenly, and as it was a fearsome look, Ron suddenly found his sandwich very interesting.

Harry, seeing that Ron was not going to elaborate further right away, tried to work it out for himself. First, Ron had said he'd been having lunch with 'someone'. Most often, when Ron said 'someone' in that half-amused, half-exasperated tone of voice, he was talking about Hermione. Okay, so that made sense, as Ron and Hermione had a standing lunch date much like him and Ron. But, what, exactly, had Ron said to her? 'It' as in...what?

Apparently unaware of it, Harry had said the last bit out loud, and Ron, startled, said, "Eh, what? What do you mean, what did I say? I said _it_."

Ron seemed positive that the mystery was cleared up, which he demonstrated by finally taking a huge bite out of his sandwich. Harry, however, was no closer to knowing why Ron seemed very afraid of what he'd said to Hermione. After all, the two still fought nearly constantly, so if he'd offended Hermione, it wouldn't be the first time.

A thought, a horrible, terrible, world ending thought, suddenly occurred to Harry. Had Ron been stupid enough to tell Hermione some story of one of his sexual escapades? Surely, Ron wasn't that insensitive; he was aware that Hermione had feelings for him.

In fact, Harry sometimes had his suspicions that Ron and Hermione were more than 'just friends', but the fact that Ron was always telling some story or other than involved him, a beautiful buxom witch, an unusual place and sex put paid to Harry's suspicions. It seemed impossible to Harry that Ron could be talking about Hermione.

"Ron?" Harry heard his own voice, strangled and strange, and cleared his throat to try again. "Ron, did you say something to Hermione about...well...sex?"

Ron's head shot up, his face slack with amazement, and then he rolled his eyes. "No, no, not sex, you wanker, I haven't been afraid to say sex since I was 13. I said _it_."

Harry growled and smacked his hand against the table, suddenly extremely frustrated with this conversation. "Dammit, Ron, just tell me what the bloody hell you're on about so we can finish our lunch!"

Ron had the gall to look offended. "What do you mean, you don't know what the bloody hell I'm talking about? I said _it_, you know, those big three words that mean commitment and forever and..."

For the second time in the course of their conversation, Harry tried hard not to snicker. So Ron was so worked up because he'd finally told Hermione he loved her, huh? Well, that wasn't so bad, right? "Well, Ron, 'it' sounds fabulous."

Ron glared at Harry. "While I'm hurt that you don't have faith in my ability to express myself..."

That did it. Harry snickered. He just couldn't help it; Ron certainly did not have a reputation for being able to talk about his feelings.

Ron frowned and poked a finger in Harry's direction. "Don't snicker, it makes you look like Malfoy."

Harry took a turn rolling his eyes. "Seriously, Ron, if you can't even say the words 'I love you' right now, how did you say them to _her_? Are you sure you even said it?"

Ron looked suddenly thoughtful, and Harry finally managed to take a bite of his own lunch. The silence stretched a little, and then Ron ventured quietly, "You're right, maybe I didn't say _it_, exactly. Maybe I said 'I _think_ I love' rather than 'I love'. You think that was where I messed up?"

Ron apparently didn't want an answer to his question, for he barreled on, looking more and more concerned and upset with every word he spoke. "I don't know, maybe I didn't say it exactly right, but I do know that it's possible she was offended. You know what she actually said?"

When Harry just shrugged, a little fascinated by how red Ron's face was turning, Ron barreled on. "She said, 'well, anyway'. And then she looked out the window and started talking about her job as if I'd said something completely uninteresting and slightly revolting! I swear, women are a bloody mystery, mate. Why can't they be easy, like chess and Quidditch?"

This time, Harry guffawed and had several heads turning in their direction. Okay, so maybe Ron had messed up his declaration a little, and maybe Hermione had been a little unimpressed, but seriously, chess and Quidditch?

Ron, apparently, did not see the humor. In fact, he looked seriously offended. He even threw down his napkin and stood up, towering over Harry from his 6 foot 4 inch height. While he looked intimidating, all long limbs and broad chest, his voice was plaintive.

"Why are you laughing at me? I think I'm offended. No, really, this is me, walking away from this conversation. I'm done talking to you about this. A man comes to his best mate for a little sympathy, and all you can do is laugh at me!"

Harry had to catch at Ron's sleeve to keep him from literally walking away, and worked very hard to wipe the silly grin from his face before Ron turned back to glare at him once more. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Ron, sit down, people are staring! And besides, what did you expect, you _did_ start out this conversation by pointing out you have a big mouth. You can't help it if I agree with you that you bungled things a bit because of said big mouth."

Ron sat, but he still looked mulish. "I _know_ I said I know I have a big mouth. Merlin, that doesn't mean I don't want a little sympathy. I mean, bloody hell, I just blurted out over lunch maybe the three biggest words ...Well, I guess I said four words, but they're still the most important I'll ever say to a woman, and she just _changes the subject_."

There was a long pause, and then a sigh before Ron ran his hands once more through his messy hair, looking dejected. Harry had to sympathize, even if it was still a little amusing. Ron had been crazy about Hermione for most of his life; it had to be pretty rough on him, knowing he'd bungled telling her his feelings. Then Ron's head shot up, and Harry almost cowered away from the fierce light in Ron's blue eyes. His voice was just as annoyed as his expression.

"I mean, really, how is this my fault, exactly? She's always telling me to just say what I was thinking, and right at that moment, that's what I was thinking." Ron grumbled and then said firmly, "Seriously, Harry, from now on I'm just not going to say a damn thing on the subject. My lips are zipped, sealed up tight like the Chamber of Secrets in our second year."

Harry had opened his mouth to respond when the incongruity of Ron's parallel between his own vow of silence and the Chamber struck him. He snickered again, but covered it in a cough when Ron gave him a dirty look.

"You're laughing again," he pointed out sullenly.

Harry sighed and hoped for patience. "Ron, think about what you just said. You're going to close up like the Chamber of Secrets? Mate, the Chamber of Secrets was _wide open_ our second year."

Ron had the grace to look embarrassed, and proceeded to shred his napkin and roll the pieces into tiny balls before saying, "Oh, well...yeah, I guess you have a point; the Chamber wasn't exactly sealed up. Bad simile. Or metaphor. I'll have to ask Hermione, when we have lunch tomorrow."

"Are you going to try telling her again?" Good, so they were having lunch again; maybe that was a good sign. Maybe Hermione had just needed some time to think about Ron's declaration. Ron's next words sent that theory out the window.

"What? What do you mean, am I going to try telling her again?" Ron looked at him as if he'd sprouted two heads and horns. "Merlin, mate, after the way Ginny reacted to what I said, there's no way in hell I'm telling Hermione! I mean, if my own sister only says, 'Well, anyway' when I tell her I think I love Hermione, what would _Hermione_ say?

"You...you told _Ginny_? I thought you'd already told _Hermione_!"

This time, almost everyone in the pub turned to watch as the handsome black-headed young man began to rock back and forth in his chair, shaking with laughter, and the handsome red-headed young man stood up and threw a few bills down on the table, grumbling loudly.

"Oh, bloody hell, you're off your rocker. I'm leaving before you start crying tears of mirth. Thought I had already told Hermione. You know I have lunch on Tuesdays with Ginny, and on Fridays with Hermione. It's _Thursday_, Harry, you know, the day we always have lunch together? Right, the day _before_ I talk to Hermione."

Harry was laughing so hard he _was_ almost crying, but he had the presence of mind to firmly grasp Ron's arm before he could stalk off in a right towering rage.

The crowd was disappointed when, with just a few murmured words and a few more chuckles, the redhead sat back down, looking sullen but placated.

Once everyone had turned back to his or her food and drinks, Harry said quietly, "I'm sorry, mate, but you have to admit you haven't been really forthcoming with all of the information thus far."

Ron snorted and Harry grunted sourly "Oh, don't be a git, Ron. So _are_ you planning on telling Hermione what you said to Ginny? In fact," he continued, considering, "do you think maybe Ginny already told her?" Harry wouldn't put it past Ginny to tell Hermione, as Ginny had just said the day before that she was very tired of Ron and Hermione's "antics".

Ron looked truly horrified for a bare second, but then shook his head. "No, I do not plan to tell Hermione what I said, and no, I do not think Ginny told her, either. C'mon, mate, Ginny's told me lots of things that I haven't told you. I think I can trust my sister."

"Ginny's done _what_?" Harry couldn't help the rising timbre of his voice, but caught Ron's slightly malevolent grin and managed to ask quite calmly, "What sort of things has Ginny said about me?"

Ron only chuckled. "You're changing the subject. I'm not going to tell you what Ginny's said. Far be it from me to interfere between two lovers such as yourself and my sister, although now I wish I hadn't called you lovers, as I have a horrible mental image in my head of you and my sister...Ew. I now need to wash out my brain with soap, or do an _Obliviate_ charm."

Ron caught the smirk on Harry's face, and growled, "I said not to smirk as it makes you look like Malfoy. Besides, do you really want me to give you mental images of me and Hermione doing the horizontal hula?"

So Ron and Hermione _were_ more than friends! Harry felt vindicated for a bare second, before his imagination gleefully supplied him with mental images of Ron and Hermione doing ... well, things you didn't want to think about the woman you loved like a sister and the man you thought of as your brother doing.

Harry knew he had to look completely and utterly disgusted when Ron snickered. "Ha, didn't think you wanted those kinds of thoughts, you self-important git."

"Self-important git? Hey, at least I have the bollocks to tell Ginny I love her. Seems to me you ought to tell Hermione!" Harry shot back.

"_No_, I am not telling Hermione I love her." Ron shuddered as if confronted with many spiders at the idea, and then said flatly, as if trying to convince himself "I'm not even sure I do."

Harry chuckled at such a blatant lie. Ron's eyes, a little dreamy and unfocused, put paid to his words.

Ron sighed at Harry's pitying look and didn't even bother with a glare, just a threat. "You're laughing again. Shall I tell Ginny you think the new Chaser for the Cannons is hot? I'm sure Ginny'd love the fact that her boyfriend was drooling over my Quidditch magazine just the other day."

Harry had already discussed with Ginny that he thought the new Cannons' Chaser was hot, and she had agreed. However, feeling as if maybe he was being a bit of a prat to his best mate, Harry arranged his features into a threatening expression. It seemed to soothe Ron.

"There, now, that's better, no more smirking, although now you look a little frightening and dangerous. Stop glaring, Harry, I won't say anything if we can just change the subject. I don't want to talk about this anymore." As if to prove his point, Ron began to play with his sandwich, taking it apart layer by layer and staring at it as if the answers to the universe were somewhere in the ham.

Harry considered letting the matter drop. He wasn't exactly one to be giving romantic advice. Certainly he and Ginny were happy, but Harry was pretty sure that was due purely to dumb luck rather than anything he had or hadn't done. So, he was startled to hear himself ask, "Ron, when you look at Hermione, what do you see?"

Ron didn't look up from his ham. "When I look at Hermione? Oh, well, you don't want to hear that, Harry, remember?"

"Don't be an arse, and stop being deliberately obtuse, Ron. Answer the bloody question."

"I am not being deliberately obtuse, I just don't want to talk about this anymore."

Recognizing that Ron was quickly working himself into one of his famous funks, Harry lightly kicked him under the table. When Ron lifted his head to grimace at him, Harry just raised his eyebrows. Ron sighed, gustily, and finally pushed his plate to the opposite side of the table, propping his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands.

"You're not going to give it up, are you?" Harry just shook his head, and Ron grumbled. "All right, all right. When I look at Hermione, I see ..."

Ron paused and considered Harry seriously. "You're just going to laugh again, and this time I might have to punch you."

"I won't laugh."

Ron eyed Harry narrowly. "You swear?"

"I swear."

Ron considered this for long moments, and then he said softly, "Okay, if you swear."

Harry nodded encouragingly, even as his eye caught movement over Ron's left shoulder. His jaw went slack, and he struggled to say something to Ron, but it was too late: Ron had already started to pour out his feelings. It was if a floodgate had opened. Ron's bright blue eyes went dreamy, and a silly grin crept onto his face as he spoke.

"When I look at Hermione, I see...well, I see everything. Do y'know, I can sit for hours and just watch her sleep? I have, too, sometimes, when she stays the night. I watch her sleep and think of all of the things I feel and can't quite say. I mean, yeah, I have a big mouth, but it doesn't seem to hold all the words I think of when I see Hermione. I think of our friendship, and how special it is to me, and how lost I'd feel if we stopped being friends. And, well, I'm a guy, of course I think about the sex, but it's not just sex with Hermione. You don't want to hear this, but you asked, so I'm going to tell you. When I touch Hermione, it's like touching hope. Even in the dark days, when we lost so many and weren't sure we were going to win the war, I could touch Hermione and feel as if somehow, someway, everything was okay. Now that the darkness is gone, I can still gather her close and remember that feeling that all is right with my world. She _is_ my world, and yeah, I guess I should just admit it. I'm in love with Hermione."

Harry realized he must have made some sort of sound, for Ron suddenly seemed to notice that Harry was looking somewhere behind him.

"Harry! What's so interesting over my shoulder? I mean, here I am, pouring out my feelings and you can't even be bothered to look me in the eye!" Ron frowned when Harry still didn't look at him, only continued gaping at someone or something like a landed fish. Grumbling, Ron started to turn in his chair. "Mate, Harry, you look a little shocked, seriously, what or who is behind me that..."

The pretty young witch with bushy brown hair and big amber eyes reached out to Ron with a trembling hand. Ron took it automatically and demanded hoarsely, "Hermione! How long have you been standing there?"

The silence stretched, painful and heavy, until finally, Hermione smiled, wide and gentle and amazed. She stepped into Ron, pressing her soft, tear-wet cheek against his and squeezing his hand. "Oh, Ron, I've been standing there just long enough. Just long enough."

Maybe, Harry thought with a smile, turning his head as Ron kissed Hermione into breathlessness, Ron's stupid mouth had finally come in handy.


End file.
